


Colors

by patchwork_panda



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Day 3, Drabble, Gen, Magi Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:59:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchwork_panda/pseuds/patchwork_panda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Magi Week Day 3 (sorry it's so late): Color.<br/>Very short drabble on the most memorable colors of young Ja'far's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dunya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunya/gifts), [Kazevita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazevita/gifts).



White.

The first time he’d become aware of the idea of color, the thing that stuck out at him most was the lack of it in his surroundings. His clothes, torn and ragged from the day he’d first put them on, even with the occasional hint of brown mud dragging down the frayed edges, were pale and lacked any hint of pigment. Even his hair and skin were white as far as he could tell from the fleeting glimpses he managed to catch of himself in his knives. His fellows in Sham Lash were similarly clothed, but as far as he could tell, he was the only one with his coloring. He was like the moon on mist, silent and visible in the darkness for only the briefest of moments before the night swallowed him up, his presence vanishing for good along with the life in his victims’ eyes.

Red.

That was when another color slowly dripped its way into his world. He would never forget the hue of the warm blood as it soaked through his bandaged hands in that dimly lit boudoir. His first kill. His fingers trembled and his breath caught in his throat for just a moment before he laughed. The sound took him off-guard; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d found something so amusing, but there it was. The life slowly leaking through his target’s slashed arteries was the exact same color as the lines left on his own pale arms where the wires had dug into his skin.

Black.

Despair. How long had it been since he’d last tasted its bitterness? It was cold and hollow and vaguely metallic, much like the dried blood that had crusted around the corner of his lip as he lay there on the Dungeon floor, barely conscious. The night had come to him at last and it would be a moonless one when he disappeared from this world for good. The foul blackened butterflies poured out of his mouth, flying out from his chest, from his very soul, surrounding him and burying him alive in the darkness and he thought no more.

Gold.

It was the first thing he saw when he awoke: rings of gold fitted perfectly to black dilated pupils, hoops of the same color glittering on pierced ears. Night had turned into day and the sun had appeared in the form of this boy, this dungeon conqueror whose life he had been ordered to take. This boy, barely four years older than him, who held him in his arms as he slowly came to, calling his name... And for the first time in his young life, he did not dislike the sound of it.

Green.

The hat fitted perfectly onto his head and the gold crest of their new nation sparkled beautifully in the morning light. It was a vibrant shade, unmatched by anything in the world save for the leafy produce of the countryside he now helped to oversee. He liked it; it reminded him of leaves and flowers and living things, for he was now a warden of protecting life rather than taking it. Ja’far smiled softly at his reflection in the wide mirror. It was the color of a new life for him.


End file.
